


Rex Tremendæ Majestatis

by Kanceir



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Allen and Kanda are Generals, Character Death, Cross has a kid but on the downlow, Crossdressing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gambling, I apologize in advance, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Magic Breasts, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Tyki's an asshole but what's new, Undercover, Undercover as Married, corsets, graphic description of Tyki's butterfly effect, kanda doesn't make a huge appearance sorry folks, the ocs don't play an extremely large role don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanceir/pseuds/Kanceir
Summary: “And I suppose you’re going to tell me this mission is a two-man job?”In which Cross and Allen return to the Black Order after suspicion is lifted from them and are sent on a mission wherein Allen must pretend to be Cross's wife, and corsets are awful.





	1. Requiem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's trash??? this guuuuy

    The story behind how General Cross Marian of the Black Order, renowned debtor and playboy extraordinaire, ended up with his eighteen-year-old, former idiot apprentice Allen Walker blue-faced in a corset and propped upon the General’s knee is a rather interesting story indeed.

    Let’s start at the beginning for the sake of clarity, and Cross’s slowly but surely deteriorating sanity.

    It all began with the European Branch’s very own chief, Komui Lee…

 

_m e m o r i a e ._

 

    “You’re going on a mission,” Komui said. Cross tipped back his head, red hair spilling over the back of the luxuriously-cushioned chair he sat in. He regarded the supervisor with his single lidded, scarlet eye. A pregnant silence settled between them, until finally Cross sighed.

    “So soon after my manumitting? Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” Cross asked, tilting his head back up and bring a half-empty glass of wine to his lips He took a sip, swirled around the liquid in the glass, and then up-ended it to drain the wine down his throat. “After all, I could still be a threat to the Order. A General like me, with years of undocumented work abroad, one hand savvy in science and the other in sorcery—and to top it off, an obscene trail of unpaid debt and lost virginity. If I were _you_ , I would think I was too unpredictable to let loose so soon after my discharge.” He gazed back at Komui.

    The supervisor brought a hand to his head. “Right. As soon as you’re done trying to avoid your responsibilities, I’ll read you your mission briefing,” he said. Cross couldn’t help but chuckle.

    “Alright, alright. What is it?” he asked. Komui handed him a clipboard with papers that he pretended to sift through.

    “There’s suspicion of Innocence in Marseille, France,” the Asian man began, but Cross didn’t let him get any further.

    “Marseille?!” Komui blinked and nodded, and Cross lifted a hand to his face. “Of all the places, of all the _people_ , why—”

    “Because you’re the most familiar with the area out of our available exorcists. Actually, you’re the only one, aside from just one other,” Komui said. The General peeked through his fingers, eye narrowed.

    “And I suppose you’re going to tell me this mission is a two-man job?” he asked; Komui nodded.

    “Allen Walker will be accompanying you. Right after his promotion ceremony, that is.”

    Cross made a dismissive noise, rubbing at his face some more. It was only when Komui turned to leave that the redhead realized what he had said.

    “Promotion?!”

* * *

    Promotion.

    Allen Walker, his idiot, Noah-bearing apprentice, was officially a General of the Black Order, and he took the title of the youngest General right out of the hands of Yu Kanda. The two were clearly distraught about the congratulations Kanda was obligated to give, but that was the least of Cross’s concerns.

    When that head of silver-white hair finally stood in front of him, barely reaching his shoulder in height, Cross had adorned the nastiest look he could muster without appearing downright bitter. Allen narrowed his lavender eyes in retaliation, and the two stared down one another for a solid minute at least, garnering a stomach-churning silence from the gathered members of the Order.

    However, Allen’s Poker Face broke first, although Cross didn’t doubt that it was intentional. If there were one thing Allen could do consistently and proficiently (aside from consume colossal amounts of food in one sitting), it was maintain any expression for as long as he pleased. Therefore Cross didn’t suffer a great loss of pride when his lips twitched up in response to Allen’s stretching ear-to-ear.

    “I suppose I really can’t call you my stupid pupil anymore,” the redhead said. Allen gave him a pointed look.

    “You’d still call me a number of things regardless of whether or not they’re true,” he said. Cross nodded.

    “At least you’ve still got your wits about you.” He put a hand on the newly-appointed General’s shoulder and wasted no time or effort on the pretense of stiff approval as he pulled the boy to his chest. Allen’s arms wrapped around his back, and the gesture had become far less strange to them over the course of their absence from the Order than to those looking on with wide eyes around them.

    Afterwards, Allen ate his weight in Jerry’s cooking, bickered with Kanda, and somehow Cross got into a drinking match with Reever. And then, after he’d thrown up in a waste bin, Komui kindly reminded him that he and Allen would set out on their mission first thing in the morning. Cross flipped him off, puked again, and sat on the floor until someone—Allen—helped him to his chambre.

    Timcanpy stayed with him in his room that night.

 

    The next morning, Cross fell out of bed, got dressed, and gladly accepted the bottle of wine Reever awarded him after confessing that he had passed out long before Cross had lost the ability to hold his liquor any longer. Cross didn’t necessarily remember it all that well, but he wasn’t going to say that. The crippling hangover was proof enough for him.

    And then they were off on a train to France. It was only after they had taken their fill from the food car that Allen asked where they were even going. Cross stared at him.

    “You mean nobody told you?” he asked; Allen shook his head. Cross sighed and rubbed at his scruffy face, wondering how he always ended up the one in these situations. “We’re going to Marseille.”

    Allen choked on a sweet bun. Once his coughing fit passed, he stared at Cross with wide eyes. “Marseille?” Cross nodded silently, and Allen held his head in his hands, pushing back his hair. “Master, I—”

    “I know. Nothing to be done about it, though. We’re grunts of the Order once again,” the General said.

    “But Master, _she’ll_ be there,” Allen said. Cross threw down his suitcase with enough force to shake the entire car, and efficiently stun Allen into silence.

    “I am _well_ aware what we’re getting into here, stupid pupil,” he said, his tone alone enough to make Allen sink down in his seat. “But I’m not willing to hear Sister Complex bitch and moan at me for putting off yet another assignment in favour of personal gain. I absolutely will not stand for it with this migraine.”

    Allen lowered his eyes. “...What are we looking for there?” he asked after a moment, dropping the previous subject. Cross opened his suitcase and rummaged through his belongings for the mission briefing he’d stuffed in there.

    “Innocence, of course,” he said in the meantime.

    “I know that, stupid Master! But what about it?” Cross pulled out the file and skimmed the information for real this time.

    “It looks like there have been reports of suspicious activity in…” He trailed off with a frown, eye narrowing.

    “In…?” Allen watched him with a guarded expression, and Cross sighed without answering. The boy’s face slowly fell. “No.”

    “Yes.” The redhead crunched the papers in his hand.

    “We’ll never get in there,” Allen said, leaning against the side of the car.

    “There is one way,” Cross said, but he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Allen furrowed his eyebrows in question. Cross hesitated, but decided it couldn’t make this suck any worse. “She told me that if I could get a wife, then…” He let his former apprentice fill in the blanks, and while it was amusing to see how fast those pale eyes widened, it didn’t make him feel any better.

    “With all due respect, Master—”

    “Spare me.”

    “—There’s no way you could get a wife,” Allen finished. Cross nodded in agreement. “So we’re still screwed.”

    The two sat in the train car silently, both hanging their heads. After a while, Allen finally noticed that Cross was staring at him?

    “What?” he asked, shifting in his seat under the redhead’s gaze. Cross tilted his head to the side, pondering.

    “Have you ever worn a dress?”

* * *

    “I despise you and everything you stand for, and I hope you drink yourself straight into the most brutal circle of Hell.”

    Allen’s voice droned in Cross’s ear as he picked at it, glancing over the dresses in the shop windows without lingering on any for too long.

    “Are you even listening to me? Of course not. You don’t care. How could I forget? I bet you’re actually _enjoying_ this.” Allen swung his arms about, tossing the luggage around with him.

    “I can promise you that I most certainly am not enjoying _this_ ,” Cross said, sneering at the sheer amount of frill assaulting his eye.

    “Well, _that’s_ reassuring.” Allen rolled his eyes.

    “Will you shut your trap and pick somewhere already?”

    “ _Me_? You want _me_ to pick somewhere?” Allen forced a sarcastic scoff. “But _you’re_ my _husband!_ _You’re_ supposed to help me! Isn’t that what husbands _do_?!”

    Cross lashed out and grabbed Allen’s shirt collar, dragging him into the closest dark alley. He shoved the boy forward once out of sight of the street, and Allen stumbled, but he had enough grace to steady himself.

    “If you don’t cut your _incessant_ prattling, I swear that I’ll leave you in a dumpster and tell the entire Order you ran off to be a prostitute at some brothel. Is that clear?” Cross asked, cornering Allen against the eroded brick wall. The boy shrunk in on himself and nodded silently, and Cross could tell that the boy didn’t doubt his threat, but he was probably more concerned about the dumpster part than Cross spreading rumours. “Good. Now you can either suck it up or suggest whatever _brilliant_ idea you must have if you’re so against this one because, otherwise, _this_ is all we have.” Allen looked away, swallowing. “Well?!”

    The young General flinched. “I don’t have a different idea, Master,” he said quietly. Cross straightened up and regained his distance from the boy.

    “That’s what I thought.” He adjusted his exorcist coat and started out of the alleyway. “Now come on. We’re going into the next store we see and you’re picking out a dress. And then you’re going to swindle some dirty bastards out of their money so we can get a ring.” He didn’t look back to see if Allen were following or not. As stubborn as the brat was, Cross knew that Allen would always follow him.

 

    As it turned out, the next shop they came to was full of more frill, lace, and silk than all that Cross had seen walking down the street combined, but he would be damned if he went back on his word now. The current trends seemed to favour corsets, and unfortunately for Allen, those dresses were the only ones that Cross would ever agree to have his former apprentice wear in public with him. All the others were too modest or plain, and where they were going, that just wouldn’t cut it.

    Of course Cross was lenient in letting Allen choose the specific dress. He tried on many without the shop owner saying a word, and even offering her assistance in Allen’s choice, much to the boy’s apparent relief.

    When Allen emerged from the dressing room in a black high-low dress with silver beads littering the corset in a floral pattern, Cross stared unabashedly. Allen turned this way and that in the viewing mirrors, looking rather stiff in the back, but Cross noticed that he didn’t have the corset laces tied all the way. That was going to be fun.

    When Allen caught his eye, the blush was as spontaneous as it was satisfying, and Cross twirled his finger once without saying a word. The redness creeped down the boy’s exposed neck as he lowered his eyes and complied, turning slowly in place so that his former master could get a proper view. Cross let his eyes roam, taking in every curved inch that the dress emphasized all on its own. Aside from the chest area, Cross came to the conclusion that Allen would fit in very well where they were going if he wore that.

    They checked out of the store with the dress and a complimentary pair of high heels the storekeeper threw in upon realizing they were foreigners, and with the silk gown tucked safely and secretly away in a black carrier bag, they set off to find the nearest inn. After disengaging from the usual conversation with the clerk they seemed to get more and more often these days ( _“No, we’re not together; no, I’m not his father; and no, we’re not interested.”_ ), they holed away in their shared room and took the opportunity to relax for a bit.

    “When should I go out then?” Allen asked, putting his suitcase next to one of the two twin beds in the room and laying the dress bag along the mattress. Cross retrieved the bottle of wine Reever had given him from his own bag and sat in the singular armchair in the room.

    “Sometime tonight. I don’t want to be woken up if you get back late,” he said; Allen nodded. “I expect you won’t need more than one night, correct?” Again, Allen nodded. “Good. Then we’ll find you a cheap ring tomorrow and go to Doux Bisous at night.”

    The white-haired boy slowed his movements at that, fingers lingering over the bag the dress was in. “Do you think she’ll believe us?” he asked. Cross hummed, popping open the bottle in his hand and sniffing the contents. Not bad.

    “She either will or she won’t. No use worrying about it until then,” he said. He tipped the bottle against his lips, glancing over as Allen touched his hair.

    “Won’t she recognize me?” he asked. Cross sighed as he lowered the bottle again.

    “She hasn’t seen you since you were a child. Besides, with some makeup you’ll just look like an exotic woman anyway.” Allen shot him a glare.

    “I don’t look _that_ much like a girl,” he muttered, but Cross only chuckled.

    “I don’t know what you saw in that mirror, but I know what I saw, and what I saw would make a very fine young lady,” the redhead said. And just like that, the blush returned. This time Cross watched his former apprentice carefully, intrigued by the sudden bashfulness he seemed to carry. “You could swindle more people that way, you know.” When Allen gave him a confused look, he went on. “If you dressed up like a woman and hung around pubs to draw out the desperate low-lives looking for a good time.” Allen’s face went blank.

    “Master, aren’t _you_ a desperate low-life looking for a good time?” This time Cross laughed aloud.

    “There’s a difference. I have my standards,” he said. Allen rolled his eyes.

    “Yeah, right. And I can list those standards on one hand.” As if to prove his point, he started counting. “Two legs, and a beating heart. Does that about sum it up?” he asked, and Cross returned the eye roll.

    “Very funny, stupid pupil. Don’t you have a card game to rig?” Allen smiled.

    “Yes, I do. I’ll be back by sunrise at the latest,” he said, grabbing his coat.

    “What’re you planning to do? Hit every pub in town?” Cross asked, raising a brow. Allen just shrugged.

    “Some games take a while, others not so much. Just depends. See you, Master,” he said as he slipped out the door. Cross just grunted in response.

    Left alone to his own devices, the redheaded General pondered in silence as he nursed his bottle of wine. He couldn’t help his mind wandering back to the dress store; from behind, Allen really did look like a woman. None too shapely, but slim and delicate, although Cross knew from first-hand accounts just how much “delicate” could not be used to describe Allen Walker. His heart was one thing, but the punch he packed was another matter entirely. Regardless, Cross couldn’t deny that Allen could indeed rake in the cash if ever he decided to take up prostitution as Cross had so helpfully suggested. Not in a brothel, certainly not; Allen could hike up his prices far higher on his own, and nobody would object once they got an eyeful of what they were paying for.

    At that thought, however, Cross frowned. Images filled his mind of filthy ne’er-do-wells and street rats eyeing Allen in anything more revealing than that dress, and for some reason it brought the taste of bile to his throat. The thought of Allen encouraging and even responding to those looks nearly made him want to wretch, so he drowned the thoughts from his mind with another swig of wine. And another, and another, and another…

    The bottom of the bottle only left him with a good buzz, but he wasn’t going to complain. His head still throbbed from his hangover this morning, and the less disoriented he was tomorrow the better. So he discarded the bottle and lay in bed, then, in a tipsy daze, jacked off to thoughts of pale, creamy legs, skimpy black lace, and a single hand in a red glove that did wonderful things to him in his fantasies.

* * *

    The next morning, he awoke the smell of fresh coffee and perfume. At first he reached out to feel around his bed in groggy half-awareness, expecting to find the bearer of the sweet, floral scent that filled his nose. However, when he was met with nothing but empty sheets, he blinked open tired eyes and yawned. Sitting up, the bed sheets fell away from his bare chest, and the worn cotton felt nice against the skin of his thighs, but he didn’t allow himself much time to appreciate that.

    Pushing himself out of the bed, he took a moment to make sure he was steady on his feet before moving to find his clothes. He noticed his uniform was already washed and freshly-pressed, but he disregarded them. Today he would wear a white, frilled blouse tucked into black pants, his crucifix necklace hanging over his chest. He donned a pair of boots and then finally regarded the single cup of steaming coffee waiting for him on the nightstand. He sipped from it without question, then headed toward the bathroom so that he could fix his hair. When he noticed the door cracked open and a light from the inside, however, he paused, lingering just outside the door.

    Sure enough, the perfume he’d smelled wafted from inside the bathroom, and he could see just far enough inside to watch Allen dolling himself up in front of the mirror, seemingly unaware of the other General’s presence.

    Even with the minor progress Allen had made with the makeup so far, Cross was already speechless at how different he looked. He’d covered his curse mark scar with foundation that matched his skin tone exactly, and his lashes were curled and thick with silver mascara. He was currently applying a light, blue-ish purple shade of eyeshadow to his eyelids, glossed lips parted just a little as he focused on the tricky application. Cross also noted that his nails were also painted in a similar lavender colour. He continued to watch Allen as he put on the minimal but oddly transforming makeup, sipping his coffee all the while. Only when Allen finished and turned to open the door did he even know Cross was standing there, and he jumped back with a gasp, holding a hand to his chest.

    “ _Don’t_ scare me like that,” he hissed as he slipped past the chuckling redhead.

    “It’s not my fault you go into some sort of trance when you’re crossdressing,” Cross said. He could hear the eye roll behind him as he entered the bathroom without bothering to close the door. He grabbed a brush and began to manhandle his hair whichever way necessary to get it how he wanted it.

    “It’s not a _trance_ ,” Allen said from the main room. “You have no idea how hard it is to put on eyeshadow evenly. And—ugh, don’t even get me started on the eyeliner. How do people do that on a daily basis?”

    “Perseverance and a tinge of madness,” Cross said, emerging from the bathroom momentarily to fetch his hair care supplies before returning. “Don’t wear that dress just yet,” he called as an afterthought. “Save that for tonight.”

    “I figured you’d say that,” he heard Allen say, “so I went and bought an outfit last night for the meantime.”

    He appeared in the doorway to the bathroom a moment later, and Cross glanced over from geling his hair to see what he was wearing. The vest of the dress was white and had black frill dangling from the collar, and a black piece extended over the top part of the bell that was shaped with a semblance to the tails of a tailcoat, and the bell itself was frilly, but not outrageously so. Allen’s hair was styled back with a single braid along the left side of his head—he must have gotten advice from some stylist while he was out last night.

    “I suppose that will do,” he said, turning back to his own hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Allen put his hands on his hips.

    “What? Am I not ‘up to par’ with your ‘standards’?” he asked.

    “You look like a rebel nun,” Cross said, eliciting a sudden snort from the boy.

    “That was funny so I’ll let it slide. Now hurry up. I found a pawn shop while I was out last night and I think we can haggle them down to something reasonable,” Allen said. Cross combed through his hair.

    “I hope by ‘reasonable’ you mean unreasonably cheap,” he said.

    “Exactly.”

    “Wait in the lobby.”

 

    They did get a ring at an unreasonably cheap price, leaving a very confused and mildly ticked off shop owner in the wake of their conning, and by the time the evening rolled around, they were back in their inn room. Cross was re-styling his hair while Allen struggled into the first dress he bought. When Cross emerged from the bathroom, Allen was still fighting with the laces in the back, and the redhead sighed.

    “You’re not going to fill that out on your own, you know,” he said, walking over. Allen glanced over his shoulder and gave the elder a helpless look.

    “You try tying up a corset without a mirror. It’s not as easy as it looks,” he said.

    “It didn’t look easy to begin with. Let go.” Cross swatted away the boy’s hands and undid what little progress he’d made on the laces.

    “Hey!”

    “Shut up. I know what I’m doing.”

    Turning Allen around, he tugged down the corset to reveal Allen’s chest. The younger swallowed and looked away, but didn’t question it when Cross pressed his hands to Allen’s pectorals. With a muttered incantation, he felt the flesh swell beneath his palms, and Allen gasped as he looked down to see the supple mounds forming on his chest.

    “What the bloody hell are you—Wait—!” He didn’t get a chance to finish his complaint as Cross squeezed the abnormal breasts together.

    “Now pull the corset back so they’ll stay in place. Unless you happened to get a bra while you were out?” Allen shook his head and fumbled with the laces as he tugged the corset back up. There was no hiding his laboured breathing or the rapid beat of his heart while Cross’s hands were pressed against his chest, but neither commented as Allen managed to tie enough laces to keep the fabric in place. Cross ensured that the breasts were situated properly before withdrawing his hands, fingers brushing the boy’s nipples on the way up and causing Allen to bite his lip. Cross just smirked as he turned Allen around again, tightening the laces.

    “...I can’t believe you arranged my breasts,” the young exorcist said as the elder tugged and tied.

    “Shouldn’t the fact that you have them at all be more outstanding to you?” Cross asked, but Allen couldn’t answer seeing as he was tightening the laces that began to hug his chest now. He gasped for air when the General pulled particularly hard, placing a hand on his abdomen.

    “That’s tight,” he said, voice strained.

    “That’s the point.” The air was forced from Allen’s lungs when Cross finally tied off the top, and his chest heaved for shallow breaths. “Try not to faint. You’ll be expected to be used to this sort of thing.”

    “Easier said than done—” Allen groaned when he tried to move, stumbling a little. “This is impossible.”

    “Not impossible,” Cross said. “Just extremely uncomfortable.”

    “Was this really necessary?” Allen asked, putting his hands to his enlarged chest. “I don’t think this was necessary.” His voice was breathy, but at least it made him sound more feminine.

    “Trust me, it was. We’ll find a fan for you on the way. Put on those heels.”

 

    By the time they stood in front of Le Jardin d’Eden, Cross was more or less supporting the entirety of Allen’s weight. The hand-held paper fan seemed to help for a while, but it was a particularly warm day in Marseille and it hadn’t taken long for sweat to accumulate on his flushed face. The heels, black shawl, and gloves Allen wore to hide his anti-Akuma weapon and scar were the opposite of helpful, Cross imagined, but there was nothing to be done about it. At least it would be cool once they got inside.

    The club was dark with colourful lights illuminating the corners and stages. Deceitfully classical music played, allowing the dancers some innovative leeway with their performances. Skin flashed all around with the occasional sliver of fabric, and while Cross was more than interested in staying to watch for a while, his stupid not-pupil had other ideas.

    “Come _on_ , Master,” he said, tugging the redhead along. “You can ogle all the half-clothed women you want _after_ we finish this. Remember, you’re a married man right now.”

    The reminder made Cross sigh and tear away his eyes from the dancers. He hooked his arm around Allen’s and let the boy lean on him again as they headed toward the back of the club. A bouncer stopped them at the door that led to Doux Bisous.

    “Majestatis,” Cross said immediately, remembering the “magic word” even after all these years. The bouncer narrowed his dark eyes and grabbed Cross’s arm, yanking him closer.

    “ _Cross Marian_ ,” he said, upper lip curling. “You’re not welcome here.” His French accent was thick, but it seemed that Noémie had prepared her club’s guards for his inevitable return. How flattering.

    “I have a wife,” the General said, pulling his arm from the bouncer’s grip to wrap both arms around Allen just as the a lover might. The other man glanced over the undercover exorcist.

    “Congratulations, now leave.” Cross grabbed the bouncer’s wrist before he could shove them away.

    “Tell Noémie. She’ll let us in,” he said, holding the man’s gaze. He jerked away his arm and made a noise that sounded vaguely like a growl.

    “Stay here,” he ordered before slipping through the back door.

    Cross was patient, and he returned his hand to Allen while they waited. Allen’s free hand rested overtop his as he fanned his face rapidly. Cross interlaced his fingers with the boy’s, in part to play the facade, and partly to offer some form of reassurance. Allen leaned back against his chest.

    When the bouncer returned, he held open the door for the two, watching them with wary eyes. “She’ll be with you in a moment.”

    “Thank you.” Cross nodded and helped Allen down the dark hallway past the door. They came to a small, dimly-lit room that Cross distinctly remembered as Noémie’s “receiving room”. His spine tingled at the memory, but he squashed down on the feeling before it could get out of hand. He had to convince her that Allen was his wife, so that meant no wandering eyes or offhanded comments on Noémie’s appearance or references to the last time he was here. He pursed his lips as he realized the entirety of what this little rooze would entail.

    They stood in the centre of the barren room for a few minutes, during which Allen dropped all pretense of fragility in favour of batting air against his face with the fan. Cross kept his distance for the time being in order to minimize the heat Allen was taking in.

    When the other door opened, however, they clung to each other again, but this time Cross rested his hand on Allen’s hip, the same hand that bore a ring that could pass for one of commitment. Noémie appeared in the doorway, and it took a lot of willpower for Cross not to let his eyes roam. Her face kept his attention well enough, though. Pounds of makeup hid her years, and her blue eyes were sharp as ever. Those eyes gave them both a once-over, and Cross subconsciously pulled Allen closer to his body. The boy’s free hand wrapped around his lower back.

    “A wife,” Noémie said slowly as if testing the words on her tongue.

    “I realize it must be disappointing,” Cross said, and that was as far as he was willing to let his innuendos go. “But it’s official. I believe we had a date for Romanée-Conti?” he asked with a sly smile. If only looks could kill, Noémie would have him drop dead then and there.

    “We did,” she said. “Your timing is impeccable as always. I just finished with a client.”

    “Oh?” Cross’s eye flickered over as a figure appeared behind Noémie, and she stepped aside to let him through. Allen leaned into his side as his stifled desperation for breath came to a halt.

    “ _Tyki_?” he said with a gasp. Cross stared at the Noah blinking back at them.

    “Ah—? _Oh_.” Amber eyes settled on Cross instead. “Well, this is a little awkward.”

    “Is your _wife_ quite alright, General?” Noémie snapped. Cross looked down at Allen, who was having an even harder time breathing now.

    “No no, I’m—I’m alright I just—I’m not feeling so well today. Forgive me,” Allen managed to pant out.

    “Now _that_ is interesting.” The Noah’s voice brought Cross’s gaze back to Tyki, and it was clear he’d recognized Allen.

    “Excuse us. Shall we, Mademoiselle?” Cross said, hurriedly pushing past Tyki and shuffling Allen into the room, grabbing Noémie’s arm and dragging her in behind him before he closed the door on the Noah.

    “ _What_ is the matter with you?” Noémie asked once they were inside.

    “There’s Innocence here,” Cross said, helping Allen into one of the chairs in Noémie’s “office”. It was more of a professional bedroom, but he couldn’t be bothered with the specifics. “What did that man want from you?” he asked, turning back to Noémie.

    “That’s none of your business,” the broad said. Cross stepped toward her.

    “We’re here on behalf of the Order. That man was a Noah. It _is_ my business,” he said. Noémie raised a thin brow.

    “On behalf of the Order, huh?” She gestured to allen. “And I suppose you picked her up on the way here just to get in here.” Cross frowned and moved to stand beside the younger General.

    “You’re wrong. This is my wife,” he said. Noémie crossed her arms.

    “And you really thought it was a good idea to bring her to a _strip club_? On exorcist business no less. Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

    “She insisted. She’s an ally of the Order.”

    “Are you even going to tell me her _name_?”

    “I would _think_ the Innocence is more important than introductions right now.” Cross clenched his fist. A whispered “Master” made him look down at Allen, and he knelt and took the boy’s hand to give the impression of concern. He looked back up at Noémie. “My wife is ill. I need to get her home as soon as possible, so _please_ cooperate if you really give a damn about the Order,” he said, hardening his gaze. Noémie pursed her lips.

    “Stay here,” she said, and then left through yet another door. Cross turned back to Allen as they waited.

    “You going to make it?” he asked quietly. Allen nodded, taking as many deep breaths as he could.

    “He knew who I was,” he whispered. Cross nodded with a grimace.

    “But at least we know for sure there’s Innocence here,” he said. “That makes our job easier.” Allen leaned back against the chair.

    “I can make it,” he assured. “It’s easier now that it’s not so hot.” Cross chuckled.

    “You’d never make it as a woman here,” he said. Allen managed a smile.

    “Let’s never come back here after this,” he said. Cross nodded, then brought Allen’s hand to his lips. Confusion sparked in the boy’s wide eyes as a blush spread across his cheeks, but a look of understanding flashed on his face as Noémie returned. Cross stood again when Noémie brought a glass of ice water to him.

    “Breathe through your nose, dear, and exhale through your lips,” she said as Allen thanked her and gulped down the water. “Slowly.” She turned to Cross. “I suppose you didn’t think to inform her of the rigors of French fashion when you smuggled her over the England borders." Despite her words, her eyes were light for once, and Cross was reminded how gentle she was to her fellow women, if not her clients.

    “No one ever accused me of being thoughtful,” the redhead said. Noémie scoffed.

    “Hell would sooner freeze over,” she said. “Now—” She gestured for Cross to sit, and he took the other chair, pulling it next to Allen’s on second thought. “That man from before, you said he’s a Noah?” she asked; Cross nodded. Noémie sighed. “He was asking about one of my girls. He said he was one of her clients, but...now that I know the truth, the way he spoke was strange.”

    “What did he say?” Cross asked.

    “He mentioned innocence, but at the time it sounded like he was talking about something obscene,” she said.

    “Tell me about the girl.”

    “She’s new. She just started working here a week ago,” she said. Cross and Allen looked at each other. That was when the anomalies began. “She’s had about ten clients already.” Cross’s eyebrow shot up.

    “How might I contact this woman?” he asked. Noémie gave him a look. “I’d like to ask her some questions,” he clarified.

    “Right.” She didn’t seem convinced. “Well, I’ll be hosting a party to celebrate our business’s anniversary tomorrow night. She’ll be there,” she said.

    “How convenient. And how might one obtain an invitation to this party?” Cross asked.

    “Well-known clients are always welcome, of course.” The redhead grinned.

    “I hope it doesn’t exactly matter what those clients are well-known for?” Noémie rolled her eyes.

    “Just be there by six. My place,” she said. “I trust you know how to get there.”

    “Like the back of my hand,” he said.

    “Good.” Noémie turned an apologetic look on Allen, who was faring much better. “I hope this won’t be a bother to you, dear. You’re very welcome to accompany him to make sure he stays out of trouble,” she said. Allen smiled.

    “I’d love to. And not to worry, I have _utmost_ faith in my dear husband,” the boy said, turning a gentle smile on Cross that he could see right through.

    “Well, you’d be the first. Now, out you go. I’ll update you on anything new I find out between now and then,” Noémie said.

    “Lovely. _Dearest_?” He held out his hand for Allen, who took it with a gentle grip. Cross helped up the boy and held him close.

    “And Cross.” The redhead looked back at Noémie. “Don’t think that this means you’re forgiven. I have my eye on you,” she said. Cross smiled.

    “Of course, Mademoiselle. We’ll see you tomorrow night.”


	2. Crucem

    As soon as they left the club, Allen stripped off his shawl and heels, sighing as his bare feet touched the ground.

    “Very ladylike,” Cross said, only for Allen to hit him lightly with a heel.

    “She’s the only one we had to convince, not the entire town,” he said. “I think we did a bang-up job of that.”

    “You’re just lucky she recognized your accent and didn’t question your embarrassing difficulty wearing a corset,” Cross said. “And that she has a soft spot for helpless women.”

    “I’m not helpless. Or a woman.”

    “Well you certainly looked the part.”

    “So did you,” Allen said, and Cross glanced down to see those pale eyes staring up at him. “I didn’t think you were capable of being that gentle.”

    “Did you never pay attention when I had ladies over?” the elder asked.

    “No,” Allen said without missing a beat. “Let’s hurry back. My chest hurts.”

    Cross didn’t think anything of Allen’s answer, chalking it up to either sarcasm or his having no interest in Cross’s romantic ~~sexual~~ escapades.

 

    Allen was in nearly as bad condition as before when they made it back to the inn, and Cross ended up carrying him up the stairs to their room despite his protests. He wouldn’t admit it, of course, but Allen was heavier than he looked and Cross was getting along in his years. He was happier than he let on to put Allen down once they were on their floor.

    “You can stop treating me like your wife until tomorrow,” Allen said with an amused smile as he reached the door. Cross opened his mouth to reply, but he didn’t get a chance to as a gloved hand shot out through the door and grabbed Allen’s throat. He made a choked noise as he was yanked forward against the wood, and the face of the hand’s owner appeared through the surface.

    _Tyki._

    “I had a feeling I’d find you here,” the Noah said, grinning down at Allen. “You know, the clerk was rather confused when I asked if a scruffy redhead and a young lady had checked in. You’re not very good at keeping a secret, are you boy?”

    Allen couldn’t formulate a response through the now severe lack of air, and Cross stepped forward to grab Tyki’s wrist.

    “Let go,” he growled out through clenched teeth. The Noah arched a brow at him and whistled.

    “Mr. Chivalrous today I see. But I guess that makes sense,” he said. “You two are ‘married’ now, aren’t you?” Cross’s hand phased through Tyki’s arm when he tried to pull, but he released Allen in the process. Cross caught the boy before he could topple over, and Tyki opened the door from the inside. “Please, come in. Talk to me.”

 

    “I apologize for that,” Tyki said after they had all settled in the room. “I didn’t realize you were already suffocating.”

    “Shove off,” Allen said with a hoarse voice. “Master, will you help me out of this?” he asked, turning his back to Cross and looking over his shoulder. Cross began undoing the laces without a second thought, but they both seemed to remember something very important at the same time. They looked at Tyki.

    “Oh, alright,” the Noah said with a roll of his eyes. He turned around, but Cross still made sure that his body hid Allen’s as the corset fell away from his chest and revealed his magic-induced breasts. Allen reached for a shirt to pull over his head before gathering the rest of his normal clothes. He made a beeline for the bathroom with the bell of the dress still clinging to his waist. Once the door was closed, Tyki turned back to face Cross.

    “That boy’s changed quite a bit since I last saw him,” he said with a glint of humour in his eyes. “Interesting relationship you two have. When’s the honeymoon?” he asked with a grin. Cross was not amused.

    “What do you want? Why were you talking with Noémie?” The general asked, pulling out a cigarette.

    “Settle down now, one question at a time.” Tyki produced his own cigarette, and they both lit up before he answered. “I don’t think I need to tell you what I’m doing here,” he said as he blew out a cloud of smoke.

    “Innocence,” Cross said; Tyki nodded. “That girl you talked to Noémie about. Does she have it?”

    “Amélie,” Tyki supplied. “Cute girl. Great lay.” Cross rolled his eye. “I have reason to believe she does.”

    “And that reason would be?” They both paused as Allen exited the bathroom, passing between the two to collapse on his bed. They returned their attention to each other.

    “You sure do ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Tyki gave him a knowing look, and Cross narrowed his eyes. With a sigh he pulled out a deck of cards from his exorcist uniform on the floor. “Ah~ Well-prepared I see.”

    “I like to call it ‘pessimism’,” Cross said, sitting across from Tyki at the small coffee table in the room.

    “Aw, don’t be harsh now,” Tyki said, leaning back against the foot of the chair he sat in front of. “I am helping you out, am I not?”

    “Are you?” Cross asked as he shuffled. “How do I know you’re not leading us on a wild goose chase?”

    “Come now, I wouldn’t lead a fellow Noah and his _husband_ astray,” Tyki said. Allen shot upward on the bed.

    “I’m not a Noah,” he said. Tyki chuckled.

    “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

    “Deal,” Cross said, passing the deck to Tyki, who did as he was told. “Am I right in assuming that you intend to try to use our cover as blackmail for you personal gain?” he asked. Tyki winked.

    “Bingo.”

    “So what do you want?”

    “Well, an island would be nice—”

    “What are you _after_?” Cross rephrased. Tyki chuckled again.

    “As you know, the Earl would have us destroy the Innocence,” he said, studying the hand he dealt himself. “And I’m bound to the Earl’s word. However, if the Innocence were to disappear before I found out…”

    “Get to the point sometime in the next century.”

    “Patience,” the Noah arranged his cards, “is a virtue.” He paused to puff from his cigarette. “I have some… Well, let’s call them ‘friends’, you see. I’d like to see them faring nicely before I have to leave them.”

    “You want money,” Cross inferred.

    “Right again. You’re on a roll today, General. Let’s see if you can keep that up in our game.”

    “You mean to tell me you aren’t fully capable of swindling yourself a nice fortune?” Cross asked. “No limit. Buy-in.”

    “Cheeky,” Tyki said. “I’m perfectly capable, but it’s so much more fun to have other people do the work for me. Besides, your _wife_ knows how to cheat better than I do.”

    “Roll up your sleeves,” Cross said at the comment, doing the same. The Noah laughed and followed suit. “Check.”

    “You’re really trying to do me in early, aren’t you? Fair enough.” Tyki fished inside his tailcoat pocket and pulled out a few bills to put on the table.

    “These friends of yours,” Cross began, putting his cards in order as he dug out a bit of change. “I take it they’re not Noah Clansmen?”

    “No, they’re not.” Tyki plucked two cards from his hand and put them face-down next to the remaining deck, then pulled two more from the deck to replace them. “They’re acquaintances of my White self.”

    “You mean your secret identity,” Cross corrected, replacing three of his own cards. “Why do you have to leave them?”

    Tyki put another bill on the pile. “The Earl has requested that I spend more time as my Black self, and that means that I can’t hang around them as much as I normally do. I can’t have them snooping around, and I won’t have to worry if they can support themselves without my generous income.”

    Cross called, placing a bit of paper cash onto the pile. “And why should we give a rat’s ass about them?”

    “You are cruel, General.” Tyki replaced another card. “I’d be in your debt,” he admitted. “You may not want to believe it, but I do care for them. They’re like my second family.”

    “Doubtful. Check.” Tyki added to the pile. “What do we get out of it?”

    “Information and my removing myself from the situation. Isn’t that enough?”

    “How much money are we talking about?” Cross asked.

    “A couple grand, at least,” Tyki said. “They work in the mines. They can find better work if they have more assets.”

    “Allen can do that.” The redhead looked over at his former apprentice. “Can’t you?”

    “Easy,” Allen said with a shrug.

    “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Tyki asked, smiling. He laid down his cards, face-up, to reveal a Full House. Cross’s eye twitched.

    “Master…”

 

    Five hands later, Tyki had finally given them enough information to make Cross’s initial loss worth it. As it turned out, the reported anomalies that were thought to be linked to Innocence had all occurred in relation to Amélie’s clients, not including Tyki. The Noah said that he’d noticed a peculiar tattoo on the girl’s left shoulder blade during his time with her, but it had started glowing with the tell-tale green light of Innocence and he’d taken off in the blink of an eye.

    “A shame, really,” Tyki had said. “It was just getting to the good part, too.”

    At that point Allen had kicked him out of the room. Literally.

    But they had enough information now to establish a plan of action. Seeing as Tyki hadn’t stuck around to find out the Innocence’s true ability, they would have to play it safe for now. They could at least deduce that it was a Parasitic-type, since it was embedded in Amélie’s body. That meant that there was no snatching the Innocence and taking off; they would have to recruit her into the Black Order.

    Well, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d gained an exorcist with a questionable background.

    “What exactly is she doing with her Innocence?” Allen asked.

    “The reports say that the affected people began to get strange markings on their hands—and other areas,” Cross said. “We can only assume that those areas came into contact with the tattoo.”

    “Strange markings? Is that it?”

    “Well, one went on a ballistic rampage and internally combusted,” Cross said. “That one turned out to be an Akuma.” Allen shuddered.

    “Alright, so it infects the people it touches and makes Akuma implode. Is it like a virus then?” Allen asked. “Like the Akuma blood curse, or Crowley’s blood when he injects it into Akuma.” Cross nodded.

    “That’s what it sounds like, but it’s clearly unrefined if it’s infecting regular people, too, even if it doesn’t do anything to them,” he said. “Hopefully they just think it’s some obscure STD.”

    “What did Tyki say the tattoo looked like?” Allen asked.

    “The Star of David, I believe.” Cross sat in the armchair and flipped through the pages that detailed the reports. “I suppose the effects of the mark on Akuma are meant to symbolize a connection to God.” Allen snorted.

    “Right. So what do we do once we get to the party tomorrow?” he asked, leaning over Cross’s shoulder to read along.

    “Wait for her to arrive and make certain that it’s Innocence we’re dealing with,” the redhead said.

    “Do you really doubt that it is?”

    “No, but I’d rather not take my chances. Komui would rip me a new one if I brought back a harlot only to find out that she wasn’t an exorcist,” he said. “Luckily that Noah inside you is good for one thing.” Allen furrowed his brows.

    “What is it?”

    “If it’s Innocence then you’ll be able to feel it through him,” Cross said. “Now that he’s awoken, his repulsion should be more clear to you, especially if you touch the Innocence.”

    “But what if I end up with those markings?” Allen asked.

    “I’d be more worried about how you’re going to survive all night in that corset if I were you.”

    They both sent a disdainful look toward the dress piled in the corner.

    “That reminds me. When are you going to take these off?” Allen asked, straightening himself and sparing a hesitant look down at his protruding chest. Cross glanced over his shoulder.

    “After tomorrow,” he said. “If I remove them now only to put them back for the party, you’ll get stretch marks.” Allen groaned.

    “They’re so bothersome,” he said, poking at one. “I don’t see how girls deal with them.”

    “In most cases, they’ve had their entire lives to adjust,” Cross said. “I’m surprised you’re complaining. There are a lot of men out there who would love to spend a day or two with a pair of tits all to themselves.” Allen made a face.

    “Don’t talk like that. It’s unsettling.” Cross laughed.

    “ _That’s_ what unsettles you. Figures.”

    “Shove off. I don’t like them,” Allen said, frowning. “They’re still sore.”

    “Massaging helps.”

    “I’m not massaging my breasts!” Allen huffed and stomped off as Cross continued to chuckle. He rummaged through his bags and pulled out a book, then lay down on his bed with another huff to read.

    Once Cross had finished going over the file in its entirety, he set them aside and lit another cigarette. He saw Allen’s nose wrinkle out of the corner of his eye, but offered no complaint; surely he was used to it. Cross’s gaze lingered on the boy as he read, unable to keep from looking at his endowment. Could he be blamed? Allen wasn’t wearing a bra, and the cool night air that wafted in through the window kept them pert through the thin fabric of Allen’s shirt. His bent knees were slightly spread, and for a brief moment, Cross thought back to Allen’s reaction when he had first induced the spell.

    “Master,” Allen said, making the redhead blink, “if you don’t stop staring, I’m going to put a restraining order on you as soon as we finish this mission.” Cross snorted, but averted his gaze.

    “Don’t tell me you’re _shy_ ,” he said. Allen held his place in the book and then moved it aside to give him a dead-eyed look from the bed. Cross laughed. “Of course, silly me.” With a grunt he pushed himself out of the armchair, defenestrating the remainder of his cigarette. Allen turned back to his book as Cross began to strip. “We’re going to have to really play it off tomorrow, you know,” he said.

    Allen hummed. “I figured as much.”

    “Staring is the most modest thing I’m going to do at that party,” he continued. Allen glanced at him.

    “Do you perhaps want to run by me what you plan to do before you actually do it then?” he asked. Clad in scarce else but his boxers, Cross stepped over to Allen’s bed and plucked the book from his hands, not waiting for his protest as he climbed onto the bed. Allen’s blush was immediate, and Cross had to wonder how he didn’t pass out with that much blood running to his face at once.

    “I’m going to do this,” he started, now hovering over Allen’s body, and lifted a hand to cup the boy’s breast. He continued despite the soft gasp. “And this.” His thumb brushed over a pert nipple, and Allen’s teeth bore down on his lip. “A little bit of this.” He lowered his head next to Allen’s and grazed his lips along the curve of his neck, barely feeling the rapid pulse beneath the skin. “And a whole lot of this.” And finally, his lips met Allen’s, swallowing the noise he made as Cross squeezed his breast at the same time. Hands pushed on his red-haired chest, and he pulled away in compliance.

    “Not in _public_ ,” Allen said, and Cross thought it was meant to be a question, but the lack of air in his lungs had different plans.

    “Of course. The public is what matters,” Cross said. “Unless you _want_ to do it in private?” He arched his eyebrow with a sly glint in his eye, and Allen made some indignant noise and tried to push him away while covering his face. Cross mercifully slid off the bed, and had no qualms divesting himself of his boxers since Allen refused to look at him anyway. He made a smartass comment about sweet dreams and laughed as Allen hid his face under the covers, and then he slipped into his own bed for the night.

* * *

    “Not—so—tight—!”

    “It’s a corset, it’s _supposed_ to be tight.”

    “That doesn’t mean it—has to be!”

    “If you want this to be convincing, then you have to act the part. Women will do anything in the name of fashion.”

    Allen gasped and held his hands to his abdomen as Cross yanked on the laces yet again. It must have hurt worse with how sore Allen’s chest was from yesterday. He’d refused to let the elder “arrange” his breasts this time, and Cross had laughed, but he couldn’t blame the boy. Thinking back on it, he wondered if he’d overstepped his boundaries last night, especially seeing as he didn’t intend to grope the poor kid quite so sensually in front of anybody. It was mostly just to tease, but given how skittish Allen had become, he was beginning to regret it.

    Bitchy wife, sucky life, as the saying went.

    Allen grunted as Cross finally tied off the top, panting as he forced his back to be straight. Cross shook his head and sat down to put on his boots.

    “Put on your—”

    “I _am_.”

    “Don’t get an attitude with me.”

    “I’ll get all the attitude I damn please!” Allen held his breath as he bent down to fight the heel onto his foot. He gulped down a breath and put on the other one. “You’re the one who dragged me into this in the first place! My ribs are probably going to be crushed by the time we leave this bloody town!”

    “It’s not that tight.”

    “Don’t _tell_ me it’s ‘not that tight’,” Allen said, storming over and jabbing a finger in his face. “I don’t want to hear shit from you until you’ve worn a corset.”

    Cross grabbed Allen’s wrist in an iron grip and stood up, turning the boy around and holding his arm behind his back. Not hard enough to be painful in any way, but enough to make his point very clear. His other hand rose to curl around the front of Allen’s throat, propping back his head to rest against the elder’s shoulder. His eyes were slightly widened and very scared, and Cross pursed his lips. He changed his hold on Allen’s wrist so he could hold it up instead, bringing his lips to the boy’s pulse as he kept his eye on Allen’s. His mouth fell open just a little as that signature blush spread across his face like wildfire. Cross removed his lips and lowered Allen’s hand before releasing him entirely.

    “M-Master?” Allen turned around immediately, holding both arms behind his back in what was probably meant to seem shy, but the way he kept one foot behind the other said otherwise. “What were you—There’s no one around…”

    “If anything becomes too much,” Cross said, “do that to my wrist.” Uncertainty flashed in Allen’s eyes, but toward what, Cross couldn’t say.

    “Too much as in…?”

    “The dress, the people, the setting.” Cross shrugged. “Me.” Allen blinked at that, opened his mouth, then closed it again as he looked down.

    “Okay.”

    “Come on,” Cross said, holding out his hand. “We need to wave down a carriage.”

 

    The carriage they ended up with was cramped and stuffy, but the coachman didn’t ask for much since he was heading the same way. Allen spilled out of the door the second they stopped, fan waving as he rolled his shoulders. Cross stepped out after him, slipping a hand around his waist. Allen’s hand lifted to his arm and then rested around his back, still trying to gather his breath.

    Noémie’s house was rather sizeable, but it was no mansion. God knew she made enough money for one, but she had her virtues in that she donated toward the well-being of her working girls rather than hoard the money to herself. A couple women were walking through the front door ahead of them, arm-in-arm.

    _And in corsets_ , Cross added internally with a quirked brow down at Allen, who was looking anywhere but him. _Better get this over with so he can avoid me in peace._

    He walked side-by-side with Allen to the entrance, only to be stopped by a guard—coincidentally the same bouncer from the club. He must have been one of Noémie’s close friends.

    “ _You_ again,” the man drawled. Cross smiled as he helped Allen up the front steps.

    “Me again. Are you going to make a fuss this time or are you going to let us in?” he asked. The man sneered at him before stepping aside. “Much obliged, monsieur.”

    The interior of the house was much more grandiose than the unassuming exterior. The printed walls, intricate light fixtures, and various pieces of marble furniture all alluded to the suppressed tastes of Noémie’s personality. The party guests were enjoying themselves, at least. Noémie found them after only a minute or two of enduring the stares they received and not knowing where to go.

    “This when I’m supposed to say ‘I’m glad you made it’, right?” she asked, offering a smile. “Only joking, of course. Amélie hasn’t arrived yet, but you’re welcome to wait in the living room.” She waved them along to follow her down the hallway.

    “Your hospitality is always refreshing, Mademoiselle,” Cross said. “What does the young lady look like, anyway?”

    “Brown hair, brown eyes.” Cross looked around.

    “Thank you, that narrows it down rather nicely.” Noémie smiled.

    “She has Vitiligo. She’s not hard to find,” she said. Cross made an intrigued face.

    “Ten clients, you said?”

    “And counting. Just last night she had two more.”

    “She must be an inspiration,” Cross said.

    “People love exotica.”     She guided them to the living room and gestured around. “There are refreshments available. I’ll bring her to you when she gets here,” she said. Cross nodded.

    “I’ll be sure to entertain your guests in your absence,” he said.

    “Please don’t.” Noémie rolled her eyes and turned to walk off again. Cross chuckled and walked with Allen to sit down on a loveseat; it was only appropriate, after all.

    “Hanging in there?” he asked. Allen nodded, leaning against him. “Don’t look so worn out. We have an image to maintain.”

    “Shove off,” Allen muttered, panting lightly. “I’m hot—”

    “It’s freezing in here.”

    “Did I _stutter_ ?” Allen sucked in a breath through his nose, his method of intake alternating as he waved the fan in front of his face. Cross sighed and pulled on his waist until Allen was in his lap, back facing the redhead. (And here is where we pick back up in our story!) “What—” He wasn’t given a chance to ask questions as Cross undid the tie of the ribbon, allowing his lungs to fill with a degree more of air, but it seemed to relieve Allen. Then Cross tied the ribbon again without re-tightening it, and Allen slumped back against him. “ _Thank_ you,” he said breathily. Cross just grunted.

    “Don’t get comfortable. If you slouch in that, then your ribs _will_ be crushed,” he said. Allen sat up again immediately, but at least he wasn’t having as much trouble breathing. For now.

    The boy turned his head to glance down at Cross from his perch, and before he could ask what he was looking at, Allen turned his body to drape his legs over the elder’s. His arm came to rest around Cross’s shoulders, providing his own as a comfortable resting place for the General’s head should he so wish it. He nuzzled into the fabric of the shawl almost by reflex, and he felt Allen stiffen against him.

    “Someone’s brazen,” he said, brushing his nose against Allen’s neck. He heard the swallow rather than saw it.

    “I’m just acting the part,” Allen said quietly. Cross chuckled and snaked his hand around the other’s waist, pulling him flush against his own body.

    “I’m surprised you’re still willing,” he said. “You didn’t seem very keen on it last night.” He fought off a frown at the memory.

    “I’ll do what has to be done,” Allen said. “And if that means suffering your face scruff, then so be it.” Cross gave him a look.

    “My ‘face scruff’ is handsome,” he said in his own defense.

    “It itches. I’m pretty sure you stabbed my chin last night.” Cross scoffed. “I’m serious! It still kind of hurts,” Allen said, rubbing at his chin.

    “You’ll get used to it,” Cross said without thinking. Allen lifted a brow at him.

    “The mission won’t take that much longer. I don’t _want_ to get used to it,” he said. Cross kept his expression carefully blank.

    “Then don’t. It looks like our new recruit has arrived,” he said with a nod toward the entrance hall. Allen followed his gaze to see Noémie escorting a short, lean girl with dual-coloured skin, splotching her body with beautifully abstract shapes. Heir hair—brown, eyes, but highlighted with a lighter tone here and there—glistened, and her owlish eyes took in everything around her as if she wanted to engrave every detail into her memory. Cross could understand the appeal.

    “General, Madame…” Noémie hesitated in regards to Allen, and Cross cursed internally. They still hadn’t come up with a name.

    “Alyssa,” Allen supplied with a smile. Noémie nodded, and Cross thanked his lucky stars.

    “Madame Alyssa,” she said. “This is Amélie. Allez-vous bien vous-même?” she asked the younger woman. Amélie nodded, and Noémie returned the gesture. “Very well. Cross—” She gave the redhead a stern look. “You have a wife,” she said.

    “That I do,” he agreed.

    “Good. I’ll leave you to it then.” And with that, she turned and walked off again, presumably to greet more guests. Cross turned to Amélie and gestured to the chair beside the loveseat.

    “S'il vous plaît,” he said, and she smiled and sat.

    “I speak English,” she said.

    “Ah, lovely.” Cross smiled. “That makes this much easier on us. Might I ask where you learned? You barely have an accent.”

    “I grew up in America,” Amélie said. “I moved here to find a better life.”

    “I see. And so you decided to become a prostitute,” Cross said. Allen smacked his chest with his fan, giving him an incredulous look, but Amélie only laughed.

    “It’s better than nothing, and it pays well.” She gestured around to the other women in the room. “They all treat me like family. A few shady characters is a wonderful price to pay for that.” Cross tilted his head in genuine interest.

    “I’ve never heard a prostitute defend her job,” he said. “All the ones I’ve met just said what they were told to say with a smile and a nod. Do you enjoy it here that much?” he asked. Amélie nodded.

    “I don’t plan to do it forever,” she said. “But I’m glad to make these bonds while I can.”

    “You don’t care about what you have to do?” Allen asked suddenly, and both turned to look at him. “Selling your body like that?”

    Amélie shook her head. “It’s flattering that people would want to pay to touch me, or sometimes even just to look at me or spend time with me,” she said. “Where I lived in America, everyone treated me like an alien. To know that my body is appreciated… It’s a nice feeling.” Allen got that tell-tale look of sympathy in his eyes, and Cross hoped that was a good sign.

    “You’re beautiful,” he said. Amélie’s face flushed slightly.

    “You’re kind. Thank you. You’re very gorgeous yourself,” she said. Allen flushed twice as much.

    “Oh—no, not really. I’m just—”

    “You are,” Amélie insisted. “And you must be gorgeous on the inside, too, to have married a man like him.” She nodded to Cross, and he wondered if that were a compliment or an insult in disguise. Allen laughed.

    “Aha—well. I suppose you’re right.” He looked over to meet the elder’s gaze, and Cross was taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. Whether or not it was genuine was still up for debate, but the fact that Allen could force himself to look at him like that at all was astounding. “He is rather extraordinary,” he said.

    “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly did you want to talk to me about?” Amélie asked, drawing their attentions back to her. “Sorry, I just have a hard time believing you just wanted a nice conversation.”

    “And you’re not wrong for that,” Cross said. “Forgive my boldness, but I was told that you have a tattoo on your shoulder. Is that correct?” he asked. Amélie blinked.

    “Yes—yes I do. Why? Is it important?” She glanced over her shoulder, reaching up to tug down the frilly strap of her dress to reveal the Star of David. She turned to allow them a better view.

    “If our suspicions are correct, then yes, it’s very important,” Cross said. He nudged Allen forward, and he slid off the General’s lap to walk carefully over to Amélie.

    “I’m sorry, Miss,” he said with a gentle smile. “Would it be alright if I touched it? No more than a touch.” The confusion grew in Amélie’s eyes, but she nodded.

    “I suppose so.”

    All eyes were on Allen as he removed the glove from his right hand, then reached out to brush his fingers over the black print. As soon as he made contact, the star glowed green, and he staggered backward with a grunt. Cross was there to keep him steady before Amélie could blink, but she quickly tugged her sleeve back up and stood to worry over Allen.

    “I’m so sorry! What happened? Did I shock you or something?” she asked, checking Allen’s hand. He just smiled and waved her off, but didn’t pull himself from Cross’s grip.

    “No, no. I’m alright.” He glanced up at Cross, and they nodded at each other. He looked back to Amélie. “I think this conversation should continue outside. You might be surprised to hear what we have to say.”

    They put a good bit of distance between themselves and the front entrance once they were outside, and Cross’s hands hadn’t left Allen the whole way there.

    “I’m sorry—I’m confused,” Amélie began. “What is it about my tattoo that’s so important?” she asked.

    “First I’d like to ask when and how you got that tattoo,” Allen said. “Have you had it for as long as you can remember or do you know of someone that gave it to you?”

    “I—I remember getting it,” she said. “Before I left America. My friend recommended me to a tattoo artist.”

    “Who was the tattoo artist?” Allen asked.

    “I’m...not sure exactly. She never gave me her name.”

    “Do you remember what she looked like?”

    “She...she had blond hair, and… Oh! A big scar on her face,” Amélie said. Cross stepped forward suddenly, holding Allen aside.

    “Did she have a monkey with her?” he asked with urgency. Amélie squeaked and stepped back.

    “I—… Actually… Yes, I think she did.”

    “Klaud!” Cross shouted, releasing Allen to shake his fist at nothing in particular. “Leave it to that woman to leave her mess for us to clean.”

    “You mean General Nine?” Allen asked, and Cross nodded.

    “It has to be. She probably had an Innocence fragment that resonated with Amélie, and it became a Parasitic-type when it attached to her.”

    “Um,” Amélie started, returning their gazes to her. “What are you talking about?”

    “Sorry.” Allen chuckled softly and scratched his head with his fan. “We should probably explain.”

 

    The initial explanation went about as well as anyone would expect. However, Timcanpy made a timely appearance, and provided various recordings from the Order and its goingson so that Amélie had proof they weren’t off their rockers. Of course the self-discovery led to her horror over the fact that her Innocence had infected that many people already, but Allen assured her that the Order would help prevent that, and maybe even find a way to revert the effects. At least Allen hoped they would. The markings were already appearing on his hand.

    “There’s no rush, of course,” Allen said. “You can take your time saying your farewells, and who knows? You might even be able to come back and visit during your travels.”

    “Actually,” Cross interrupted. “There is a bit of a rush. In case you’ve forgotten, we aren’t the only ones looking for her Innocence.” Allen slapped a hand to his forehead, and then covered his mouth.

    “I still need to get that money,” he said. Cross rolled his eye.

    “No you don’t. He already gave us the information we needed,” he said. Allen glared at him.

    “Yes, I do. I’m not going to make a bigger enemy out of Tyki than I have to. Besides, I’ve met his friends. They’re good people.”

    “They’re not our probl—”

    “There’s a child with them,” Allen said, effectively silencing the General. He sighed sharply.

    “Fine, but don’t drag me into it. Now, like I said, we are in a hurry—” A voice came from the front door as he reached for Amélie.

    “Madame!” The new exorcist darted past them to reach the club owner. Cross groaned.

    “Go find a game to rig,” he said, shoving Allen toward the road. “I’ll take her back to our room. You better be back by sunrise or we’re taking the train without you.”

    “But the corset—”

    “We don’t have _time_ , stupid pupil!” Cross waved his arm violently, and Allen flinched back. “Now go!” The younger General nodded and stumbled as he turned and hurried toward the road to flag down a carriage. Cross threaded his fingers through his hair and walked over to the front door to wait on the two women.

    “Are you leaving now?” Noémie was asking Amélie.

    “I think so—But is it alright? If I leave?” The harlot asked. “I know I just started working here—”

    “Don’t worry,” Noémie said, hugging her around her shoulders. “You’re going off to do bigger and better things. You’ve already done a lot for our family. Just stay safe, alright?” She pulled back to look at Amélie, who nodded, taking a breath. Noémie patted her face and then looked over her shoulder at Cross, eyes hardening. “And _you_ better make _sure_ she stays safe.”

    “Yes, of course—”

    “I mean it,” she said. “If I find out anything happens to her, not amount of redemption will ever earn your forgiveness. Is that clear?”

    “Crystal. Now, please.” He motioned for Amélie to hurry along. Noémie humphed and hugged Amélie once more.

    “Alright, off you go,” she said, ushering off the exorcist.

    “Goodbye! Thank you, Madame!” Amélie called as she descended the steps. Cross took her shoulders and pulled her along. “Why are we in such a hurry again?” she asked.

    “A Noah is after your Innocence,” Cross said briskly. “I’ll explain once we’re on a train, with or without Allen.”

    “Allen?”

    Fuck. Dammit. Shit. Fuck.

    “Uh—” He sighed. “That will be explained later too.”

    They eventually found a carriage willing to take them the rest of the way to the inn after half-walking-half-running on foot for so long. Allen of course wasn’t in the room when they got there, but his absence wasn’t what made Cross freeze in the doorway.

    Sitting in the middle of the floor with a note tucked beneath it was a music box.

    “Is everything okay?” Amélie asked from behind him, trying to peek around him.

    “Stay here,” he said quietly, stepping into the room. His eye scanned the room as he walked farther inside, and he reached down to pick up the items. He decided to crack open the music box first, and his grimace was immediate.

    Inside was a butterfly figurine, and the shrill tune followed that of “Pop Goes the Weasel”.

    _All around the mulberry bush…_

    He unfolded the note.

    _The monkey chased the weasel…_

    He glanced over the words.

    _The monkey thought ‘twas all in good fun…_

    “Pop goes the weasel~”

    Cross wouldn’t admit to jumping at the sound of the voice, but when he looked around, only Amélie was still standing in the doorway.

    “Sir?” the girl asked, glancing around with wary eyes. “Are we in danger?”

    “Yes,” he said, wasting no time with false reassurance. He discarded the box and note on the nightstand as he started to gather their things. “Get in here. Don’t stand in the hallway,” he said. Amélie shuffled inside, closing the door behind her. “The Noah are people with special powers, like our Innocence, but its antithesis. They can destroy Innocence, just as Innocence can destroy them.”

    “So...they’re like those creatures you mentioned? Aku…Akuma?” Amélie asked.

    “Worse,” he said. “The Noah are reincarnations of the man from the bible.” The girl blinked.

    “As in Noah’s Ark?” He nodded. “But he was just one man.”

    “They’re his memories,” Cross said. “‘Dreams’, ‘Wisdom’, ‘Desire’. The one chasing us is the Noah of Pleasure.” He glanced over at her. “You’ve met him.”

    “I have?”

    “Does the name ‘Tyki Mikk’ ring a bell?” he asked. Her eyes widened, and she brought both hands to her mouth. He pursed his lips and continued packing. “Don’t let the revulsion get to you. You’re not the first one he’s defiled.”

    “But…I don’t understand. He was so kind.”

    “Anyone can be kind to get a job done,” he said. He pointedly did not think about the weight of that sentence. He left out some clothes for Allen to change into when (if) he got back, and then they waited.

 

    It was some time before Allen returned, but in his defense he did get back before sunrise.

    “We have to leave. Now,” he said as soon as he stepped through the door. His makeup was smudged, and his curse mark showed through. His hair was in disarray, but Cross noted a distinct sway where tufts of hair stuck out more than others. His shawl was also gone, revealing the uppermost of his right arm.

    “What happened?” Cross asked, shooting to his feet. Allen’s head whipped up at the intensity of his voice, but he recovered quickly.

    “Sore losers, that’s what,” he said, snatching up the clothes Cross had lain out on the bed. “Get this off.” He turned his back to Cross.

    “What did they do to you?” the redhead asked as he strode forward to begin undoing the laces of the corset, fingers thankfully agreeing to be nimble this time around. The corset fell away, and he reached around to Allen’s chest from behind to place his hands over the breasts, causing them to shrink back to his normal pectorals.

    “They got a little physical,” Allen said, shucking off the dress without a care for their current company and hastily pulling on his clothes. “I should have changed before going out.” Cross grabbed his shoulder once he was adequately dressed and turned him around.

    Without the distraction of the dress and the scarce remains of the makeup to distract him, he could see plainly the new marks on Allen’s skin: a bruise on his left cheek, the dark imprints of fingers around his throat, a bite mark peeking out from his shirt collar.

    Cross shook. His hand clenched the fabric of Allen’s shirt, and his vision fell away from what was right in front of him as a potent urge to punch something overcame him. He was shaken from his blind rage, however, as he felt Allen grab his arm, and he watched in a stupor as he brought Cross’s wrist to his lips. Their eyes met.

    “Grab your things,” he said lowly. Allen nodded and let go of him to get his bags as Cross fetched his and hoisted it over his shoulder. “Come on, Amélie.”

    “ _What_ just happened?”

    “No time to explain.”

* * *

    _“Run along, little weasels. The monkey is coming to find you ~_

_\- Tyki Mikk”_


	3. Maeror

    “Why is he chasing us?!” Allen paced the length of the train car, appearing on the verge of ripping his hair out root by root. “We made a deal! I would get the money and he would leave Amélie alone!”

    “Quit _yelling_ , brat,” Cross said, setting down his bottle of Pinot Noir. He was far too sober for this shit. “He’s a Noah. What did you expect?”

    “But it’s _Tyki_ we’re talking about,” Allen said, turning on him with face full of worn features and wide eyes. “He has this weird...complex.” He made a vague gesture with his hands. “I know he cares for those people, so why is he doing this?”

    Amélie sat in silence across the booth from Cross, watching the two with calculating eyes. She must have thought they were insane.

    “A _Noah_ ,” Cross repeated, “is all he is. And the Noah of Pleasure at that. He’ll do whatever the hell he wants to if there’s some gain to it. And, in case you’ve forgotten, there’s quite a large profit in it for him if he gets his hands on us.” He gestured his half-empty bottle toward Amélie and then one of Allen’s bags—the one with the money he’d conned. “We have a new exorcist with no idea what she’s doing, a broad sum of cash that he’ll no doubt use for his own means, and a lousy _General_ who’s going to get himself _killed_ because of every sliver of humanity he sees.”

    Allen stilled at that and looked at him, pursing his lips softly. His gaze fell with a sigh as he slumped down into one of the booths, putting his head in his hands.

    “I’m sorry…” he said, voice muffled in his palms. “I thought—”

    “I know what you _thought_ ,” Cross spat. “You _thought_ that you could continue to play on the sidelines without aligning to either side of this blasted war. You _thought_ that you had the answer to everything. And you _thought_ that you could get away with cheating God’s will. Well, my stupid pupil, you thought _wrong_ —now get the hell over it already. We have more important things to worry about than your self-sacrificial sulking.”

    Allen took a deep breath and sat up, expression kept carefully blank. _That’s right_ , Cross thought. _Keep up that Poker Face for as long as you can. You’re going to need it._

    “You’re right,” Allen said. “Thank you, Master.” Cross scoffed, taking another swig from the bottle. On second thought, he up-ended it and downed the entire thing before slamming it back down on the table. Amélie jumped.

    “I’d like to remind you,” he began, “that the only reason we’re running right now is because of you.” He pointed to Amélie, who blinked. “You’re a liability to us and we can’t afford to lose a new exorcist, especially not one Klaud sought out. I’m still clueless as to why she left you there after implanting the Innocence into you.” He rubbed at his head, and after a moment, Amélie spoke, softly at first, but her volume grew as realization seemed to trickle onto her face.

    “She… I remember she told me something before I left,” she said, brows knitting together. “She said that I’d find someone. Or...someone would find me…” She shook her head. “Someone I would probably hate, but she said I would have to trust them.” Cross looked at her again and raised his eyebrow. “I thought she was crazy so I ran away after that.”

    “Then let me ask you something,” Cross said, leaning back in his seat. “What are your thoughts on us?” He nodded toward Allen. “Honestly.”

    Amélie was quiet for a moment, glancing between the two, and then she took a breath. “I think you’re both mad.” He knew it. “I think that you’re going to bring me somewhere that I’ll hate, and I think there’s a good chance that I might die while I’m there.” Cross snorted lightly. “Madame Noémie had a look on her face that she never gets unless she’s really worried,” she clarified. “And...I think that no matter what I say, you’re going to take me wherever it is we’re going anyway.”

    “But?” Cross urged. Amélie sighed.

    “ _But_ ,” she agreed with a nod, “...I trust you.”

    “So she left you there on purpose just so we’d find you,” Cross inferred. “I imagine this is supposed to be some sort of revenge from the last time I courted her.”

    “‘ _Courted_ ’!” Allen repeated with a burst of laughter. “You got shit-faced drunk and chased her monkey around with a wine glass when it foiled your less-than-admirable advances.” Cross shot him a sidelong glare.

    “I don’t need to be reminded,” he said. Allen was too busy giggle-snorting at the memory to care about Cross dead-eyeing him, much less reply. “ _Anyway_ , I trust that Klaud’s roundabout passive-aggressive attempts to ruin my life haven’t caused you much trouble?” He turned back to Amélie. “Considering the existence of your Innocence has only been brought to our attention now.” The brunette shook her head.

    “I had no idea until now,” she said.

    “Good. Now.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward while Allen was distracted with wiping the tears from his eyes. “Eleven clients plus a Noah is a rather impressive achievement for one week,” he said, and the understanding flashed in Amélie’s eyes without missing a beat. “I’m very interested in discovering the entirety of your charm.”

 

    If Allen hadn’t been suspicious when Cross had told him to stay put while he disappeared into a different train car with Amélie, then the new ink-like markings that had appeared on various parts of his body when they returned an hour and a half later were enough to set him off on a blushing, screeching lecture about decency and his lack thereof.

* * *

    As it turned out, they were able to meet the finder sent to retrieve Amélie without difficulty. A few Akuma encounters here and there, but no Noah. The fact left them all on edge, and all four pairs of eyes were wide open as they hiked through a forest shortcut to the next town, where there was an inn allied with the Order that would provide them horses (no carriage this time, unfortunately).

    “Amélie,” the finder, Viktor, said in a heavy Russian accent, “you must stay out of the way if we run into more trouble. The exorcists can handle Akuma, but if things get bad you and I will have to leave them and get to safety.”

    “I understand,” Amélie said quietly. Allen walked beside her and smiled.

    “Don’t worry. Master and I are both Generals. We can handle ourselves,” he said. “Viktor has ways of protecting you. You’ll be just fine.” Amélie smiled back, but said nothing more. Allen cast a glance over his shoulder at Cross, but the redhead simply shrugged.

 

    They made it to the inn, still without any grueling encounters. The innkeeper’s wife was very friendly with Cross, but not overly so in light of the scowl her husband kept trained on them. There was a single redheaded boy amoungst the other three, brown-haired children of the couple whom no one made any explicit reference toward as the party saddled up their horses. They would only take two: Viktor would ride with Amélie and Cross with Allen, much to the latter’s dismay, but he didn’t waste much time on complaining.

    They rode hard and fast, never taking any well-known roads or paths, and using as many obscure shortcuts as they could. Still no sign of Tyki or the other Noah Clansmen. Cross was beginning to get uneasy.

    “Master.” Allen spoke only loud enough for Cross to hear over his shoulder, arms tightening around the elder in case his voice hadn’t reached him. There was no question in his tone.

    “I know,” Cross said, glancing to the two riding atop the horse in front of them.

    Something wasn’t right.

    They endured a while longer of silent riding, but it was then that the answer to their troubled thoughts revealed itself. Cross saw Amélie’s form slipping to the side, and he called out for Viktor to stop as he yanked on the reins of his own horse. Allen swung down and ran to catch the girl just as she toppled over, and Cross and Viktor dismounted their horses to hurry over.

    “Amélie? Amélie!” Allen shook the girl, whose bi-coloured face seemed pale.

    “I...I don’t feel well…”

    Those were the only words she could get out before a crease appeared in her skin directly down the centre of her collarbone.

    A swarm of purple butterflies exploded from her chest. Her eyes bulged and the light in them dulled. Her mouth hung open in a scream she never voiced as her body was forced open to release more of the Tease.

    “ _No_!” Allen cried hoarsely. He clung to Amélie when Viktor tried to pull him away, and Cross had to pry his arms from her lifeless body. He jerked the boy from the finder’s hands and pulled him to his own body, backing away from the stream of butterflies that finally began to peter out as they massed in the sky above them. The noise of their wings was deafening, but as they watched, the butterflies dispersed in all directions. Likely in order to conceal where they were really going, Cross imagined. His face was taut in a grimace, and he tightened his arms around Allen when he finally held onto the elder General.

    Allen didn’t cry, but his body shook, and he refused to move his head from where he hid his face in Cross’s shoulder. Viktor focused on calming the horses and tying them down. All three of them averted their eyes from the corpse on the ground.

 

    “...I see,” Komui voice said through the black golem. He could be heard rubbing his face through the transmission. “That’s...very unfortunate. There’s nothing you could have done?” he asked. Cross sighed.

    “No. The Tease must have already been inside of her before we even got there,” he said. He looked over at Allen, who sat on the ground with his knees tucked to his chest, distracted eyes staring into the fire they had built. Viktor was cleaning up from the light meal they’d forced themselves to eat before night fell. Cross looked away again.

    “I understand. Please have Viktor return to his unit,” Komui said. “You and Allen are on standby. You can return to Headquarters if you’d like, but…”

    “We’ll keep in touch,” Cross said instead. Komui gave his confirmation and ended the transmission. Cross grabbed the golem and tucked it into his coat, and only then did Timcanpy flutter over to rest on his shoulder. He reached up to caress his creation with a finger, then gathered the golden ball in his hand and held him out toward Allen. Timcanpy nuzzled his palm before flitting over the the white-haired exorcist, burrowing right into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

    Allen blinked and his lips twitched as he lifted a hand to pat the golem, then turned to Cross with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. With a soft groan of exertion from the effort, Cross stood and walked over, but instead of sitting next to Allen, he sat behind him (conveniently putting his back against the trunk of a tree), his legs bracketing his former apprentice on either side. Allen looked over his shoulder.

    “Master—?” Cross didn’t give him time to argue as he circled his arms around him and pulled him to his chest, eliciting a quiet squeak. If Viktor thought the gesture was odd, he didn’t say so or give any indication he even cared at all.

    “Shut up. Get some sleep,” the redhead said. Allen sat there, frozen, for a minute before sighing and turning around to lean back against Cross. Timcanpy was more than happy to nudge himself against both men, wings curling around his spherical body.

    Soon enough, the boy was snoring softly, having adjusted his body until he was turned slightly to the side, and from a particular angle, one might have thought they were cuddling. He didn’t linger on the thought, instead telling Viktor to grab one of the blankets he’d brought along with him and drape it over Allen’s body. Both Cross and the finder took turns keeping watch that night, and both kept their eyes carefully averted from the body wrapped in a white sheet tied with ropes lying to the side of their camp.

 

    The Generals parted ways with the finder at daybreak. Viktor would take the body back to his unit and they would deliver it to Headquarters for the funeral ceremony. Cross couldn’t help but wonder just what those bastard higher-ups intended to do with Amélie’s Innocence. For some reason he doubted Central would bat an eyelash at the carcass of an exorcist with unrefined Innocence. After what they did to those two boys, and the CROWS… He wouldn’t put anything past them.

    “Are you going back to Headquarters?” Allen asked once Viktor had left, leaving them with their single horse. Cross scratched his head.

    “No. They can find me if they need me,” he said. He looked at Allen. “Are you?”

    Allen thought it over, then looked down the road they stood on the side of. After a moment, he turned back to Cross and smiled softly. “I think I’ll spend some time away. They don’t need me right now.” The redhead raised a brow.

    “Are you sure you won’t miss your friends?” he asked. “It’s not like you to want to stay away from them.”

    “It’s not them I want to stay away from,” Allen said, sighing. Cross reached out and took him by the shoulder, pulling him close. This time Allen wrapped his arms around the older man without question. They embraced silently for an undetermined amount of time, but then Allen pulled back just enough to grab Cross’s hand. He kissed the man’s wrist, and looked up at him with a vulnerability in his eyes that Cross knew far too well. He adjusted his hand to hold Allen’s instead, bringing his knuckles to his lips.

    “Let’s find an inn.”

 

    They did. Cross sat on the bed and held Allen until he fell asleep, and then Cross fell asleep too. In the morning they checked out and traveled until they came to Perugia, Italy. They found a small, cheap place on the outskirts of town to rent for the time being. It wasn’t luxurious by any means, but they had a fire, a warm bed, and a roof over their heads, and the landlord offered to go to the market for food if they paid for it, so they mostly stayed indoors. At this point they were used to sharing a bed, seeing as it had been cheaper at all the inns they’d stayed at on the way here. Cross had become comfortable sleeping in the nude again at some point along the way, and Allen had acted scandalized at first, but it was nothing he’d never seen before.

    The first night in their rented house, Allen decided to follow suit and strip completely before crawling into bed. Literally. Cross’s eyes were glued to his milky, scarred skin as he prowled from the foot of the bed onward. He plucked Cross’s glasses from his face, setting them beside his discarded mask, and draped his body over the redhead’s already bare one.

    Cross didn’t ask any questions, and Allen voiced no wonder as to why. He simply kissed back when Cross found his lips, and arched into his body when callous, tanned hands roamed down his sides. Cross’s tongue claimed his mouth, and he squeezed the supple cheeks when his palms trailed down low enough. Allen tangled his fingers in cascading red hair, gasping against his lips when Cross rolled his hips upwards. He spread the boy’s ass in his grasp, but didn’t let his fingers wander too close to his entrance, and Allen got the message.

    He broke the kiss to sit up, still straddling the redhead’s waist. Cross’s eyes followed Allen’s hand as it started from his thigh, slowly drifting upward, over his hardening cock and along his toned abdomen and chest, and finally to his lips. He sucked in three fingers without pause, tongue slipping between and around them as a trail of spittle glistened down his chin. Cross softly kneaded the younger’s thighs as he watched, gradually coming to life between his legs. When Allen was satisfied, he removed his fingers and reached behind himself, and Cross’s gaze fell as he watched one, two, all three fingers disappear inside his ass. Allen’s voice rose above him, head tilting backward as he began thrusting his hand. He started slowly, but quickly gained speed and stretched his fingers as he prepared himself.

    Cross moved one hand between Allen’s legs, savouring the shudder and subsequent moan as he took the swollen cock into his grasp. He stroked lightly and languidly, fingers loose around the boy’s shaft. His thumb brushed over his slit which already leaked pre-cum, and he spread the fluid over his length. He gave a few more soft pumps before lowering his hand to the sensitive balls just below. He rolled them in his palm, squeezing gently and massaging as he waited.

    After what seemed like eternity, Allen’s hand stilled and pulled out, leaving him panting above his former teacher. The tip of his cock was red with need, slit glistening, but he wasn’t so far gone as to forget one very important step. He scooted down Cross legs, then bent forward to hover his mouth over the much larger endowment. He dragged his tongue up the length, and Cross groaned when he sucked on the tip. He continued to tease with his tongue for a few excruciating moments before he decided to have mercy. With a kind of skill Cross could never have guessed his fickle little not-apprentice would have, Allen took the cock into his mouth and did not stop until his nose was buried in the red curls around the base.

    Another moan escaped him as Cross threaded his fingers into the head of silver hair between his legs, and the hum he got in return made him bite his lip. Allen’s tongue laved over his length as he pulled back, only to drop down again to swallow Cross’s dick down his throat. He kept this up until, when he pulled off completely with a wet pop, a string of saliva and pre-cum connected his red lips to the tip. He leaned down to lick it off, earning a sound from Cross that was too gruff to be a whimper, and then crawled forward until he was back in his previous position.

    Allen wasted no time in sheathing Cross’s cock deep inside of him, and they both moaned loudly at the sensation. Allen’s walls were incredibly hot around his thick, hard cock, and they clenched just enough to edge him that much closer to climax, and they’d only just begun.

    However, Cross decided he’d let Allen have enough control over the situation. He brought his hands to the boy’s hips and gripped them tightly. Once Allen realized Cross wasn’t going to let him move on his own anymore, he let himself be lifted and slammed back down. He threw back his head with a cry of pleasure as Cross repeated the action over and over, his own hips thrusting up to meet Allen’s every time he came down. He set a fast, rough pace, somehow knowing without being told that Allen wouldn’t have let him be gentle if he’d wanted to. The unspoken agreement suited them both just fine.

    The wet slap of skin-on-skin filled the room along with their noises of pleasure. Sex, sweat, and musk filled Cross’s nose, and he spared one hand to grab Allen’s hair and drag him down to his lips. Their tongues slid against each other hotly, panted breaths mixing as the new angle allowed Cross more room to thrust. He returned both hands to Allen’s hips, pounding into him relentlessly as their mixed spittle escaped their mouths in the heat of the moment.

    When Cross felt Allen’s muscles flutter around his cock in the first sign of his impending climax, he stopped his hips only in order to flip them around. Now hovering over the younger boy, he let him fend for himself as he moved his hands from his hips. The force of his thrusts pushed Allen back against the pillows, and the headboard banged against the wall in time with their rhythm. Allen moaned beautifully, fingers clenched in the sheets at his sides. One of Cross’s hands flattened against his stomach, holding him down as the other hooked under one of his knees and brought it over his shoulder. Allen’s back arched with the next thrust, voice ringing out.

    “There—!” He squeezed his eyes shut. “There there there—” he panted out with every collision of their hips. Cross drove into him harder, leaning forward and nearly bending the boy in half. Lucky he was flexible. His mouth was all over Allen: his chest, his nipples, his shoulder, his neck. He left several bite marks and twice as many hickeys in his wake, uncaring for whether or not they would be visible. He _wanted_ people to know. He wanted _everyone_ to know that he had claimed Allen Walker as more than his idiot apprentice.

    “Beautiful,” he whispered into Allen’s ear, delivering a particularly hard thrust right into his prostate. “You’re beautiful.” Allen cried out, his voice filled with pleasure and something else, something more profound. It bordered on a sob, but Cross could feel the deep, rapid beat of his heart under his palm, and he knew the tears in his eyes were from neither pain nor sadness.

    “Master, I’m—Master—” Allen couldn’t get out the words, but he didn’t need to. Cross redoubled his efforts and lowered his hand between their bodies. He grabbed Allen’s cock and pumped it in time with his thrusts, squeezing just enough to make Allen shudder and moan loudly. It was only a few more seconds before he released all over his stomach and Cross’s hand, streaking white across his skin. His voice wavered and broke, jaw slack as proof of his ecstasy escaped him.

    Without giving him time to recover, Cross pulled out only to flip Allen onto his hands and knees. Grabbing his hips again, he penetrated him once more, and Allen screamed from the over-stimulation. His silver-white hair stuck to his sweaty face and the pillow, and he arched his back to press his chest to the mattress, pushing his ass against Cross’s hips. The redhead groaned wantonly and leaned forward to tease the back of Allen’s shoulders with his lips, tongue, and teeth. Allen’s voice was unrestrained, and tears streamed down his cheeks as Cross defiled him, broke him, delivered him. It was depraved. It was sinful.

Cross took Allen’s reawakening dick in his hand again and stroked him. When at last Cross reached his Nirvana, his growl of Allen’s name sent the boy over the edge a second time. He came onto the sheets below him with a broken cry while the elder’s load shot into him, filling him blissfully as Cross milked his release and rutted against him to relieve them both of every drop. Finally he stilled, and they collapsed on the bed beside each other in a sweaty, stained heap. Deep breaths filled the silence as a satisfied exhaustion overcame Cross. He stared at the ceiling in a daze, Allen’s chest heaving in his periphery. The realization of their actions slowly washed over him.

    Before he could say a word, Allen’s lips were covering his. He made a noise into the kiss, but eventually just reached out to pull the boy close.

    “I’m sorry,” he found himself saying between kisses. Allen paused. “For everything.” The boy broke away from him to prop himself up on his elbow, and Cross met those pale, lavender eyes that looked at him from a flushed face with swollen lips, disheveled hair falling around his complexion.

    He was beautiful.

    Cross Marian never thought he would live to see the day he fell in love.


	4. Exitus

Perugia, Italy turned out to be the perfect sanctuary for a couple of sinners like them. It was out of the way of major traffic, and Cross had sent the Order-issued golem with Viktor, so they wouldn’t be interrupted by the Order anytime soon. Cross even refrained from adding to his debt collection so as to avoid early detection, much to the relief of his former apprentice.

Allen was an attentive lover, something Cross had never exactly had the pleasure of experiencing before now. He’d had his fair share of kind women, but he’d never stuck around long enough to garner anything from it. And now that he’d fallen headlong into the wasp’s nest that was sure to become of his newfound fidelity, he discovered that he had no desire to tarnish it. Anytime he had doubts of his faithfulness (due in part to inebriated loss of higher-functioning capabilities), he needed only look into Allen’s eyes, and he would either forsake further consumption of alcohol or allow Allen to do whatever he pleased to keep him indoors those nights.

It wasn’t that Cross had any intention of whoring around with other people, it was that he didn’t trust himself not to. His mind-numbing sexual endeavours, his determination to kill off his liver early, his addiction to losing himself in smoky rooms that distorted reality—it was all to help him forget.

Forget that his best friend had gone insane and died, and that his best friend’s brother’s best friend had offered his body to house the reincarnation of The Fourteenth Noah. Forget that the body housing The Fourteenth’s reincarnation appeared to him as a young child who bore the name of Mana’s dead dog. Forget that he had to care for and train that boy while knowing that eventually he would be consumed by The Fourteenth’s soul and cease to exist one day. Forget that he distanced himself by abusing that boy in more ways than one, and undoubtedly leaving him with psychological trauma that would make any therapist run and hide with their tails between their legs. Forget that he had never succeeded in distancing himself. Forget that his dreams were haunted with grief and guilt each night, and that he could never, ever atone for everything that he’d done.

But now, having finally allowed himself to sober up at the tail end of his life, no longer able to hide the silver strands streaking his hair, he remembered.

Allen was the one who held him that night, and after Cross had spilled his anguish from an endless flow of tears that could not contain the sheer entirety of what had festered within him, after his voice had gone hoarse from trying,  _ trying _ to articulate every last needle of guilt in his mind, after his limbs had gone weak and numb with a lost sense of desire to use them, after it all, Allen had spoken just three simple words that sent his world crashing down like a house of cards.

“I forgive you.”

And then, to mend the shattered glass and put his distorted reality back into order with an entirely new perspective,

“I love you.”

And here, at the tail end of his life and no longer able to hide the silver strands streaking his hair, Cross Marian began to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy shit i die here's the continuation/epilogue


End file.
